Begining of the end

[Kane]

Everyone on Manhatten watched as Nomads poured in from skies above. Horror stuck their faces, as they swooped and dived, slaughtering many in their path. All save a few...

The Phantom operative leader that was stationed on Manhatten watched for a moment... but only a moment. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a signal through the Manhatten phone service. It was a pre-recorded message that was very simple, and only other operatives in hiding heard it.
"The time is right... Strike now."
A few LSF operatives noticed it, but if they were soon preocupied with the Mayday screams and Red Alerts blaring all over the place. Hence, not many noticed the Phantoms. Untill they came in and started killing people.

The Flechette Cannons are normaly part of a boarding action, causing maximum damage to people with razor darts or saws with little damage to actual systems. They could cut through most types of armor normaly found on ships with a few exceptions of some medium armors and heavy armor (Both of with are not generaly found on people in a ship), and were devastating to civilians. So, when the Phantom operatives started shooting them on max spread into the paniced crowds, it was death on a very personal level, on a scale reserved for wars and genocide. It became wrose when they put on respirators and some medium armor and started throwing nerve gas behind them. Death was brutal and painful for those in the gas, burning out the lungs, nerves, eyes, and skin. Screams turned into uninteligable gurgles as the killers moved along, towards the armories and equipment dealers.

***

In the capital building, Alpha and the attacker were facing off. Some foot-steps were heard behind them, and out stepped a man dressed in black, wearing a decorated respirator. The goggles were black pits, with pinpricks of red peering out of them. A snarling maw lined with decorative teeth indicated where the mouth was, and horns decorated the rest of the mask, and these actually seemed used, indicated by the congealing blood on them. On the apperation's back was some kind of large backpack, hooked up to a rather large portable cannon. Multiple barrels were on it, and the figure aimed loosely in Alpha's direction. The barrels spun, and a torrent of purple energy ripped out towards him. He dodged the shots, but the floor under him was blown away, and he fell down a floor landing on his back with a painful sounding thump.

The figure paused a moment, then shifted to the women. He knelt, placing the jurry-rigged Nomad chaingun in front of him barrels down.
"Madam Chancelor... It pleases me greatly to place the service of the Phantom Empire and the C'Tan at your disposal." He lifted his face, the maw somehow conveying a grin.
"How can I be of service?"

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This is the real true story of rock and roll; it was not about anything more then, how to live your life, as a gangster, in sartorial splendor, and turning the world into a place where normality would never return again...- Malcolm McLaren